


blaspheme

by kirkaut



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Smut, Top Jack, if that's a thing, swearing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirkaut/pseuds/kirkaut
Summary: It’s not that Bittle doesn’t swear. It’s more that Bits doesn’t swear as much as the rest of them, Jack thinks. Bittle swears for emphasis, carefully picking and choosing when to drop a curse into his sentence, just to pack a little punch in whatever he’s saying.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is just straight up porn fyi

It’s not that Bittle doesn’t swear.

It’s more that Bits doesn’t swear as much as the rest of them, Jack thinks. Bittle swears for _emphasis_ , carefully picking and choosing when to drop a curse into his sentence, just to pack a little punch in whatever he’s saying.

He’s gotten a bit more loose about it all since moving into the Haus; it was bound to happen, being surrounded by frat-jocks, living with someone who called himself ‘Shitty,’ and given the way Holster uses ‘fuck’ every other word like it falls naturally on the exhale. By the time Jack graduated, it was no longer so unusual to hear Bits swearing at the television as the Falcons play, or the occasional and affectionate, “for fuck’s sake, y’all,” when the team would get too rowdy.

Still, Bitty swears infrequently enough that it makes everyone perk up and listen when he does. Even Jack, who’s treated to a slightly different version of Bits than everyone else - the one that’s more relaxed, softer around the edges and his accent blurring into a true Georgia drawl - finds himself still a little surprised whenever he hears Bittle swear.

Even when he has Bittle pressed down at the hips, holding him down into the mattress as Jack nuzzles and kisses his way down to the front of his shorts, there isn’t swearing. There are airy groans and Bits’ fingers scraping through Jack’s hair, the soft encouragements of, “Oh, Lord, sweetheart - Jack, baby, that feels so _good_ ,” because despite the lack of curse words, Bits is a bit of a talker.

Bittle comes to visit him a few weeks into his school year, and they’re kissing messily on Jack’s bed when Bits grabs Jack’s hand and pulls it down from the small of his back and into the crease of his ass and says, breathily, “Jack, I...I want...please?”

It wouldn’t be the first time Jack’s slid his fingers into the warm clutch of Bittle’s body - that particular milestone was passed during a sweaty, fervent encounter in the back of a pickup truck, the colorful pop of fireworks casting Bits’ face in gorgeous colors as he came across his stomach and his rucked up tee - so Jack knows that he’s asking for something different.

Something more.

He takes his time fingering Bitty open, careful to use more lube than usual and only adding another finger when Bitty is flushed and begging for it. He’s got his cheek resting on a sweaty swath of skin on Bits’ inner thigh, feeling the muscles beneath him tremble and tense whenever Jack withdraws his fingers and pushes them back in. He leans forward and skims the tip of his nose against Bittle’s balls and follows the line of it with his mouth, dragging his lips up the shaft until he can press a soft, lingering kiss to the head of his cock.

“Jack,” Bitty sobs on an outward breath, clutching alternately between Jack’s hair and his shoulder. “Jack, _please_.”

He pulls back just far enough that putting on a condom and slicking himself up with lube isn’t an impossible task, and pushes Bitty’s legs apart and just a little bit up so that he can line up and push in.

It’s his first time so it’s slow going, Bits still tense despite all of Jack’s thorough preparations, so Jack slumps over the top of him and buries his face into his boyfriend’s neck, murmuring praise and swearing in French under his breath all the while. Bitty is clutching at him like he’s afraid Jack is going anywhere (he has nothing to fear, there, because Jack is about 110% certain there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be than here, in bed together, bodies slowly merging) and breathing wetly.

“You feel so good, Bits,” Jack murmurs. He scrapes his teeth over the delicate edge of Bitty’s collarbone as his hips settle, flush. He shifts forward, only a little, only because he can’t help the way his body cants into the warmth it’s found, and Bitty lets out a high, thin whine, and a soft, “ _Fuck_.”

Jack freezes, body locking up tight. “You okay?” he asks, and though he wants nothing more than to stay this close to Bits for the rest of his life, he is fully prepared to pull out if he’s hurting Bitty in any way at all. He starts to shift backwards with the intent to do so, but Bitty’s hands scrabble up his back and dig into the flesh of his waist, the jut of his shoulder blade.

“Don’t you dare,” Bittle says, and shifts his shoulders down the mattress, hips tilting back a bit as he does. Jack shuts his eyes against the movement, doing his best to stay still until Bitty’s hands relax and smooth down the expanse of Jack’s spine and settle at the curve of his hips. “Honey, you feel…” His hips move up again, chasing the feeling he hasn’t named.

Jack brackets his forearms around Bittle’s head, threading his fingers into sandy blond hair, and carefully drags his hips back a couple of inches before pushing slowly back in.

Bitty makes that keening noise in his throat again, and Jack feels it vibrate against his chest. He keeps one hand cupped around the back of Bitty’s head and runs the other down his side, the swell of his ass, and up the back of his thigh. He hooks his forearm under the bend of Bitty’s knee and pulls it up, bracing it against his shoulder, and drops down into the cradle of Bittle’s hips.

Bitty arches his back suddenly, hands spasming into claws against Jack’s skin. “Shit,” he gasps. He slips his hands around the back of Jack’s neck, knots his fingers there, and pulls his head down until their foreheads knock together. “Fuck, baby, do that again.”

Jack does, and he can’t hide the shiver that runs through him at the quiet litany of curses that fall out of Bitty’s mouth when he thrusts in again. Jack knows this angle, knows that he has Bits’ hips lifted into that delicate spot between good sex and _amazing_ sex, and yet he feels wildly unprepared for the thrill he feels whenever another swear word punches its way out of Bitty.

Because Bitty only swears for emphasis, when he’s full of feeling, and right now, with Jack braced above him and ending each thrust in a small grind, every other word out of his mouth is a cuss.

“Jack, honey, _fuck_ ,” he says, moaning hard on the last word. “Fuck, that feels...it feels so fucking good. Why didn’t we - oh, Lord, God _damn it_ , yes - why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Jack is too busy losing his mind over the feeling of Bittle below and around him, too transfixed on the dark blush that spreads from Bitty’s cheeks - down his neck, across, his chest - and too wrecked by the sound of his cursing to do more than grunt in response. He puts his back into the next thrust, and Bitty lets out a strangled, half-shouted, “Oh, shit, sweetheart, do that _again_!”

“Bits,” Jack says, feeling as though he’s unraveling at the seams, impending orgasm already chasing sparks up his spine, making his balls draw up tight. This isn’t the longest lasting sex he’s never had, nor the most athletic, the most adept. But it’s sex with Bittle - his _first time_ with Bittle - so it is, by far, the best sex of his life.

Made all the more so by the thrill he feels whenever he manages a particularly hard thrust and Bits seems to lose his mind, profanities dropping out of his mouth like he’s been storing them up just for this moment.

“I love you,” Jack tells him as he slips a loosely gripping hand around Bitty’s cock and pulls. “Bits, I love you, I love - you feel - _Bits_.”

“I love you so fucking much, Jack,” Bitty says, screwing his eyes shut and pushing his head back against the pillow, arching and thrusting alternately into Jack’s grip, onto his cock. “So fucking much, so goddamn much, honey, _please_ , I want - I want…”

“I have you,” Jack says, and curls his hand a bit tighter. “You have no idea how good you look, how you feel...how you _sound_.”

Bitty lets out another curse, chest hitching and hips thrusting up involuntarily, like he’s trying to prove Jack’s point for him.

“Like that,” Jack says, and drops his hand to the base of Bitty’s cock, pressing his thumb up into the fleshy spot below his balls. “When you talk like that, I can’t - _câlisse_ , I’m close. Bits...Bitty, are you - ” He pulls his hand away from Bitty’s cock in order to hike his leg up further, the back of his knee pressing into Jack’s collarbone, and thrusts down.

Bitty comes like that, with a shocked, gut-punched gasp and his body clenching around Jack’s in every way imaginable, impossibly tight, and the most beautiful thing that Jack has ever seen or heard. He leans down and smears a messy kiss into the still open gape of Bitty’s mouth, half swallowing the whimpered ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ that’s there, and comes harder than he ever has in his entire life.

He lets Bitty’s leg drop off of his shoulder so that he can drape himself on top of him without worrying about causing further discomfort, and curls one arm beneath his back and another around his head like a halo. Bitty’s hips are twitching upwards even though Jack can feel him going soft between their stomachs, come slicking their skin and slowly growing tacky. Jack brushes the hair off of his forehead and burnishes soft kisses there, chasing down the arches of Bitty’s face to the tip of his nose, the slack bow of his mouth.

“Gracious,” Bitty breathes, and pets his hands along Jack’s shoulders. “Honey, we need to do that again.”

“What, now?” Jack asks, chirping even as he carefully shifts his hips backward, slipping out of Bitty’s body but making no moves to go anywhere further. “I need a few minutes, at least.”

“Oh, hush,” Bits says, swatting lightly at his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Jack thinks about the way Bitty looked, spread beneath him and swearing a blue streak as Jack took him apart. “Yeah,” he says, and kisses Bits again, lingering. “I do.”

 

 

(A few weeks later, when he’s visiting the Haus and watching with Bits and Holster as the Atlanta Falcons lose to the Buccaneers, Bitty swears exuberantly at the television, and Jack has a flashback to the night before, when he was chanting that same word in Jack’s ear as they writhed together, and tries to hide his flush behind a sip of beer.

Bitty looks at him out of the corner of his eye with a knowing smile, and winks.)


End file.
